Long Hard Night
by ValleyA
Summary: A supply run to a commerce planet turns deadly.  Following events of Hidden Memory
1. Chapter 1

**"Long Dark Night"**

**by ValleyA**

_(set immediately after Hidden Memory)_

**Chapter One**

"He isn't doing any better here than he was onboard Moya. Just look at him," Chiana whispered into her mug of razlak as she took a drink.

In response, Pau'u Zhoto Zhaan glanced over at John Crichton across the crowded consortium for a moment before she sighed and looked away. "I was hoping a change in his surroundings would help bring him out of his grief, but I see that I was mistaken."

"Can't you do something for him? Some... priest thing to ease his pain-"

Zhaan's frown was enough to silence the young woman.

"There is not a _thing_ that can be done for a heart that is broken and a spirit that is wounded. One must simply give time a chance to mend the wounds. I pray in John's case, the healing will come quickly."

Chiana heard the worry in Zhaan's voice and wished she hadn't pressed the Delvian so hard. All of them were at a loss as to how to help Crichton recover from his ordeal at the Peacekeeper base. She looked up at Zhaan. The priest wore her light-colored wrap draped gracefully around her head, accentuating her blue skin tones, and giving her a regal bearing.

The bartender, a stout Pandorian with three arms, green hair, and cream-colored skin came along, whistling as he wiped at the counter with a towel with one arm while filling a mug with razlak with the other two. "Can I get you another?"

Zhaan smiled at him. "No, thank you. We are fine."

The Pandorian frowned as he looked in Crichton's direction. "Mind if I asked you a question?"

Zhaan eyed the bartender closely. "Go ahead."

Without looking back at her, he said, "Is that Peacekeeper with you? I thought I saw you walk in together."

Chiana glanced over at John, and then noticed the people around him also looking at John, but with distrust and quiet whispers.

Zhaan sighed and shook her head. "No, he is not a Peacekeeper. He's not even Sebecean, but he did come in with us. He is part of our crew."

The Pandorian considered her words and finally said, "He doesn't look very happy."

"He isn't," Zhaan said sadly.

"Most Peacekeepers aren't," the Pandorian said quietly.

"He is no more a Peacekeeper than I am," Zhaan said sternly.

The Pandorian put up all three hands and backed away. "Don't let the Katarrahs get you all wound up. I was only asking."

"Katarrahs?" she asked.

The Pandorian grunted. "I forget about off-worlders sometimes. It's our winter winds. They can knock down a town if they get strong enough. Mostly, they irritate the hezmana out of people and get their emotions all whipped up, along with clearing the roadways."

"Interesting," Zhaan replied, then added, "I am sorry for my harsh tone."

"Don't worry about it."

After he went to help another customer, Zhaan hung her head for a moment. "Was that the only reason why I got so angry with him?"

Chiana put a hand on Zhaan's shoulder. "We've all been under a lot of stress. Don't worry about it."

There was a commotion up front as a blast of wind blew the front door open with enough force to knock two people into each other. Chiana frowned at the haze of dust it left in the air. She took another swig of razlak and then wiped the back of her hand across her mouth. "Well, Crichton needs some company, whether he wants it or not...I'm going to sit with him for a while."

Zhaan touched Chiana's shoulder gently. "Do not be alarmed if he doesn't speak with you. He's barely said a word since we arrived."

"He's barely said a word in days..." the Nebari whispered as she stood at the bar, swaying softly to the sultry music the live band was playing. One more look at John and her decision was finalized.

"I'll be careful with him," she added as an afterthought, not quite sure if she planned to be careful for John's sake or her own.

When they returned from the gamik base, Crichton had asked them to respect his privacy, but nothing could truly be private among shipmates. The change in their friend was too dramatic for that. Chiana remembered how Aeryn Sun quietly explained the purpose of the Aurora chair to them, along with its torturous effects in vivid detail during the night following Crichton's rescue.

And she remembered shedding silent tears for John as Aeryn described how the chair searched through a person's memories like it was a heavy plow moving through a field of eggshells, sometimes searching for specific memories, sometimes not. It caused both psychic and physical agony for the victim. The truth was John's terrible experiences with the chair hit too close to home. She also could have spent time there herself, if her escape hadn't gone as smoothly as it did. It was only a fluke she was able to flee the base when she did.

_Frelling Aurora chair! It's almost worse than the mental cleansing my people had wanted to do to me,_ she told herself angrily, _because the person remembers every minute of the agony afterwards_.

She thought again about her escape. Who was she kidding? Her getaway wasn't a fluke. The only reason she was able to escape the gamik base when she did was because of Gilina. The woman really did care about Crichton. Chiana couldn't imagine how John felt knowing Gilina was dead because of that affection.

John had been an easy-going guy, a little testy when it came to his module, but in general an easy going guy. When she compared the memories of him to the present John Crichton, she could see how deeply John wore the wounds of a prisoner of war. It seemed nothing was going to change that condition...except maybe time, if Zhaan's prediction was to be trusted, along with lots of TLC from his friends.

"Chiana?"

Chi blinked and slowly turned back to Zhaan, only then realizing how completely she'd been lost in thought. What had happened to John had affected all of them a great deal, she just hadn't seen how deeply until then. Zhaan seemed to understand Chiana's lapse of attention as she stepped closer to her. "Chiana, we only have a few hours before our supplies will arrive and we can leave, so stay close. With this many travelers in town, we can easily get separated."

Chiana shrugged and toyed with the mug still in her hand. "That's what comms are for. Besides, it's getting late. The streets should be clear by the time we want to leave."

Zhaan shook her head. "Pilot said the comms could malfunction with the heavy dust storms they have here, something to do with the high concentration of silitron in the atmosphere. We need to stay close."

"I'm close. Don't worry about me. It's D'Argo and Aeryn you should be worried about. They left for the transport pod an arn ago, and we haven't heard from them since then."

Zhaan sighed. "Yes, I know, but I can trust them to keep a level head, so I'd rather the rest of us didn't spread out too far. It would be an unnecessary annoyance."

Chiana nodded, but she allowed herself a deep sigh of irritation. With all of Zhaan's efforts towards enlightenment, she never realized she had a real way of talking down to Chiana without even trying.

Chi stopped when she noticed the bartender speaking to another employee. The two looked across the saloon and eyed Crichton suspiciously before looking back at Zhaan and Chiana. Chiana shivered. It seemed distrust of Peacekeepers was alive and well on Mebendik. At least, that thought was comforting. She toyed with the idea of talking to the Pandorian, so he'd really understand John wasn't a Peacekeeper, but then decided they weren't going to be there long enough to matter.

As she walked away, Chiana took in the atmosphere around her. The place was called a consortium, because of its many businesses inside the establishment. It contained a saloon, a thriving supply station, a restaurant, a source of live entertainment and was a meeting place for many of the locals.

Purple, brown and gold were the predominant colors on this world called Mebendik as the colors stood out in the clothing and interior design of the establishment. The goldish tone to the dust seemed to accentuate the gold that played into the grand color scheme. Cleanliness was obviously not a top priority as there was a fine layer of dust upon everything. Little wonder with the wind beginning to blow like it was, keeping on top of it would be nearly impossible.

The dust didn't seem to bother the people present in the consortium. The people there could be divided into three categories. One, the employees in the saloon: the vendors, dancers, singers, waiters and bartenders; two, the usual clientele of local residents, mostly miners, who were largely resentful of the third category; the wayfarers, those making the sacred pilgrimage to Aserraki, the holy birth site of their ancient prophet, Danifa.

The wayfarers were godfearing believers who followed their religion's dictates and journeyed to Aserraki every five years in order to be counted as one of the chosen. Visiting the site on one's birthday held a special significance, and trips were usually planned to honor the head of the household on their birthday.

Mebendik's inhabitants were much like Sebeceans, except they had an elongated chin, lavender colored eyes and mane-like hair that ran anywhere from white to a brilliant gold to dark brown.

Chiana watched the wayfarers with interest as they moved about. They all had a familiar cast to them. She had seen it time afer time on different worlds. The truly devout rarely had any currency to spare, so their fate was dependent upon their faith and hard work to carry them through.

These travelers in the consortium were there for supplies and maybe a well-cooked meal. Their clothing was functional, done in simple textiles and earthy colors, and none of them wore gold or purple in their attire, unlike the employees and residents of the town. They clearly spurned the more materialistic, glitzy side of their planet's culture. Most of the wayfarers inside were lingering while waiting for their supplies to be processed and loaded. Though their numbers were large, it was strange that so many of them were often treated as second class citizens.

She nearly bumped into a pair of wayfarers, a young woman and a body. "Excuse me," Chiana said softly.

The woman smiled. "No harm done."

The woman was jostled from behind. A trio of men pushed their way through. "If you can't watch out for normal folk, how can you know when the Unseen is about to strike?"

The words were said with mock concern and the tone rankled Chiana's nerves. Trouble seemed to be in the air. The speaker continued, "If you knew what was good for you, you'd get out of town now. It ain't gonna be real safe around here for wayfarers real soon."

The woman put her arm around the boy and headed back toward the supply station at the rear of the business without saying another word.

The man with the threatening tone turned his attention to Chiana. "Don't worry, these wayfarers won't be bothering you for much longer."

"Don't trouble yourself on my account," she said as she turned away, deliberating doing the opposite of what her heart wanted to do, namely teach these men some manners. But Zhaan had told to keep a low profile and that was what she was going to do.

Chiana resumed her course, and angled her way across the crowd to the corner where John was sitting. Normally, Crichton's light brown hair, blue eyes, dimples and strong jawline made him a person of interest to the women around him, but now he was gathering more nervous glances than anything else, but he wasn't interested in any of it. Unfortunately, there wasn't much that did interest him these days.

John had positioned himself with his back to the wall, able to see anyone who approached him, though his attention seemed turned more inward. His distant gaze hinted at introspection, but his pained expression told more. As she watched, he grimaced, then gasped, bending forward slightly as if in pain. He held tightly to the table's edge with both hands. When he finally raised his head, a brief flash of panic crossed his eyes and they darted around the room, almost as if he didn't know where he was. He wiped the back of his hand across his mouth as he settled back into his chair.

Chiana increased her pace, but by the time she arrived, John seemed to have recovered somewhat. His complexion was still misted with perspiration, his breathing rapid, but he recognized her and attempted to smile.

"Hello, handsome," Chiana said softly as she turned a chair around and sat facing its back, wrapping her legs around the back of the chair, moving quickly before John could tell her to leave. She smiled as she set down her mug, and reached forward, cracking the seal on his unopened bottle of razlak without invitation.

"How did you know my cup was empty?" she asked with a feigned innocence, her voice low and sexy.

With a flourish, she poured his drink and hers, then set the bottle down, and strummed her fingers across the top of the poorly cleaned table. She glanced around and was at a loss at what to do next, so her mouth took over. "Pilot said there were a lot of people in town, but I didn't think he meant this many. What was it again that they are doing?"

John sniffed as if thinking of his response, then answered her without looking at her. "A sacred pilgrimage."

He took a long draw on his razlak, closing his eyes as he drank. Chi's worry for him grew as she watched. She leaned forward, trying to pull him out of himself with conversation. "But Pilot said a lot of the wayfarers die every year on this sacred pilgr-pilgr...however the hezmana you say it. I'll never understand religions that make you think you have to die for a holy cause. In my book, God would never want you to suffer like that, but then again, I've never really had that many conversations with God."

John simply closed his eyes again and brought his mug to his lips, this time sipping at the brew like it was some healing balm. His sigh afterward told how poorly the balm had worked. Chiana wasn't sure what to do next.

She thought again about propositioning him again, then tossed the notion aside. John had a real hangup about promiscuous sex, or maybe it was just promiscuous sex with her. He seemed to attach some deeper, spiritual meaning to it, but sex was sex to her. She only knew that it made her feel better. If she had gone through the type of ordeal John had just been through, she would desperately need it, so maybe John did, too.

She looked up to see John squeeze his eyes shut as something new took hold of him, something akin to fear, but then he caught himself, quickly looking to Chi to see if she had noticed. There was a hollow cast of despair that flashed in his eyes, and then disappeared almost as fast as it came, and she knew the new look had been psychological pain.

When the moment had passed, he stared at her with those penetrating blue eyes of his before finally glancing away. He sighed with a great fatigue, one more borne of the spirit than the body and picked up the half empty bottle of razlak. He played with it for a moment and said, "Pip, stop worrying about me, I'm fine. Besides, you don't make a very good Mother Theresa."

He grunted as he rolled his eyes. "Hell, Mother Theresa probably just rolled over in her grave for saying that. You're not known for modesty or restraint or any of the other things nuns are usually known for. You're an amazing woman, Chi, but you just don't fit the bill."

She was about to ask what a nun was when an explosion outside stopped her. Another followed in rapid succession. John's hand went to his pulse pistol as Chiana reached for hers.

A strange cheer that went up from both outside and in with the explosions, as if it were some type of community event, but not everyone was celebrating. Again, the consortium's patrons were divided into separate groups, the locals who pushed their way out the front doors in excited anticipation, those that stayed behind, the employees and patrons not in the first group, and finally the wayfarers who ran out the back way in fear.

_Frell_, Chiana thought, _why are we always in the middle of someone else's dren?_

**oOoOoOoOo**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

"How much longer are you going to be?" Rygel's irritated voice came over Aeryn's comms.

"As long as it takes to finish," she said smoothly as she aimed at the target before her.

A series of targets had been set up one hundred yards away in a practice field. The area had about a dozen men and women in line or at the shooting line. A strong wind came up suddenly and its gusts had the potential to affect her shot, so she waited for a lull and then fired.

"Frell you," Rygel responded with disgust. "I've got more important things to do than sit around waiting for supplies. The least you could do for forcing me to come along on this trip is to feed me."

"You've got plenty of rations in the transport pod," D'Argo said, taking his turn to shoot with his quatha blade.

"Rations? You've got to be kidding. We are on a planet with an abundance of fresh supplies. I deserve better."

After D'Argo's shot, Rygel sputtered, "What was that? Are you under fire?"

The wind whipped Aeryn's long dark tresses into her face. She turned her face into the wind to get the hair from her eyes and said, "We are doing some target practice while we await the supplies."

She turned back to the target and took aim, squeezing off a perfect shot.

Closing her eyes, she could almost see Rygel's indignant reaction. "I-I am starving because you are off seeing who is the better shot?"

"That's it exactly," D'Argo said with a smooth tone that had a hint of evil delight in it.

"This is unacceptable!" Rygel bellowed. "I will just go and get my own refreshments!"

Aeryn turned away from the others and spoke into her comms. "You will do no such thing. Someone needs to be at the transport pod when the supplies arrive. We are in this competition to get information from the locals. Apparently, there is a small Peacekeeper presence on this planet, something Pilot wasn't aware of, but they usually stay on the other side of the planet. We need to find out if they can be a threat or not."

Rygel grunted. "Once again, I starve because of the Peacekeepers. A curse upon the entire lot -"

He said more, but his reply was garbled. Turning back to the others in their party, Aeryn said, "Rygel, we are in the middle of a friendly competition. We will bring you something to eat as soon as we are done."

Again, there was more static, but Aeryn thought she heard a few choice curses from the royal Hynerian amid the white noise.

"Rygel?" she asked, growing a little concerned.

She looked to D'Argo as the winds whipped around them. A portly man with white hair chuckled as he stepped up to shoot. The man's aim was true as he hit the center of the target. Pointing his weapon upward, he moved back for the next man to take aim.

Smiling at Aeryn, he said, "You won't be able to talk to him over your comms for a while. Those winds are part of the Katarahh storms we get every year at this time. When that wind starts up, you can't talk to nobody over comms."

He extended a hand. "The name's Harizon Cooley, sheriff of this fine town."

Aeryn shook his hand. "Aeryn Sun and Ka D'Argo."

"Pleased to meet you."

Aeryn smiled. "Should we be nervous that the sheriff made it a point to introduce himself to us?"

Cooley smiled back. "I make it a point to meet all of the newcomers to Nelleb, especially when they can shoot like you two."

"We don't want any trouble here," D'Argo said. "We're just passing through."

"Good, then we'll get along just fine."

Some dust flew into D'Argo's eyes and he shielded them for a moment. "Shouldn't we go inside?"

"Because of a little breeze? No, there's no rush. Once it finally hits, you'll be glad you stayed outside as long as you could. When the Katarahhs really set in, it's black as night and cold as a widow's heart. It gets hard to breathe outside without a filter and goggles are a very good idea. Worst part is they can last for days."

Aeryn eyed D'Argo nervously. She tightened her grip on her pulse rifle. "Sounds like these winds could push back our departure time, and that's something we were trying to avoid," Aeryn commented as she turned back to take her next shot while the smaller man moved to Cooley's side.

D'Argo stopped wiping at his eyes and stepped forward to take his shot once Aeryn was done. He said, "You and your men are fine marksmen. Is there a need for such exacting accuracy on Mebendik?"

Cooley smiled, but there was a coolness reflecting in his lavender eyes. "More than you'd think."

He stepped up to shoot and paused. "We are a poor people here, but we know how to fend for ourselves and how to protect our people."

He gave Aeryn a quick glance, but now there was a hint of animosity in it. D'Argo looked to Aeryn and back at Cooley. "My companion may be a Sebecean, but she is not a Peacekeeper. Not any longer."

Cooley looked to his partner as the man took aim and fired. He frowned. "I was not aware there were Sebeceans who were not Peacekeepers."

Aeryn nodded. "We are few, but we are out there."

Cooley frowned for a moment. "There is a Peacekeeper outpost on the other side of our world."

D'Argo nodded. "We have heard, but we would rather avoid them if possible."

Cooley chuckled. "Wouldn't we all?"

He gestured for Aeryn to be next in their group to shoot. D'Argo moved closer to Cooley as Aeryn prepared for her shot. "Is it possible to know if there are any Peacekeepers in the immediate area?"

Cooley eyed him as he took a deep breath, hesitating. D'Argo put up a hand. "There is no love lost between our people and them, but I need to alert my ship if there is a risk of encountering them in orbit."

Instead of answering, the sheriff's head cocked to one side. "Did you hear that?"

Aeryn asked, "What?"

D'Argo answered for Cooley. "A blast of some type."

Aeryn strained to listen, but she didn't hear anything. Cooley turned to one of his deputies. "See what Patik has on the local Peacekeeper presence at the moment and find out what that blast was."

Aeryn turned to him as D'Argo fired, his shot hitting the center of the target. "Thank you."

Cooley grinned. "Don't thank me yet. The Katarrahs might already be too strong for our comms, and they are specialized to deal with the high atmospheric silitron levels. Besides, with the way you two can shoot, I'd rather you be on my side in a firefight rather than the other way around. I guess the competition will go to you today, as well it should."

This time, the distant rumble of explosions became loud enough for Aeryn to hear. "What is that?"

The deputy rushed back before Cooley could answer. "Patik said there are reports of a squad of Peacekeepers moving into Nelleb."

Just then, Crichton's voice came over the comms. "Aeryn, D'Argo, where...you?"

The rest of John's message was lost in a buzz of static. D'Argo looked at Aeryn, but she was already on the comms. "Crichton, come in."

The static worsened. She said, "Crichton, can you read me? Repeat your last transmission. There's too much interference."

She looked to D'Argo and he tried his comms. "Zhaan, Chiana, report."

Cooley frowned. "It's too late. I guess the Katarrahs are going to be too strong for anything to get through, so you might as well forget it. I suggest we think about heading indoors. Looks like this will be a honey of a storm the way it came up so fast and hard. Normally, we'd have another half arn before we'd have to quit."

A young woman came running up to Cooley and his deputy. "There are Peacekeepers in town and there's twice as many of them as usual."

Cooley nodded. "If you will excuse me, we definitely need to be going."

The woman stopped him with a hand on his arm. "There's more. Looks like Riele and his faction are hazing the wayfarers again."

As if to accentuate her comment, there was a louder explosion. "That's them? Now? With the Peacekeepers breathing down our necks and the Katarrahs starting up?"

She nodded. "He said it didn't matter to him who or what was around."

Cooley handed his weapon to his aide. "Nothing like the Katarrahs to bring out the crazies. Come, we will go now."

As they headed toward town, D'Argo said, "This is a different route than we took coming here. How far is it back to town?"

"This is a shortcut, something only the locals know about and use. Nellub is about five hundred microts away, if we hurry."

They moved quickly. D'Argo asked, "No offense meant, but why would the Peacekeepers even bother with a backwater planet like Mebendik?"

There was a small, but proud smile from Cooley. "We are a poor people, but a rebellious one. We irritate the Peacekeepers, so even though there is nothing of interest to them here except the occasional Tsekisk guerilla hideout, they keep a small force here to spite us."

"Tsekisk guerillas? I didn't realize they were in the area, either," Aeryn said with interest.

"Yes, they like to hide in the desert caves outside of the Aserraki monument, in between their attacks on the Peacekeeper installations. The Peacekeepers have scoured the entire area looking for them, but haven't found them yet. The guerillas just blend among the wayfarers until they are ready to go off world again."

"Little wonder the Peacekeepers are after them, the Tsekisks have been a thorn in their side for years."

There was a series of distant explosions heard above the growing howl of the wind. Aeryn looked to Cooley with a questioning expression. "Speaking of thorns..." the sheriff said with a sigh, "That would be Riele and his cohorts. What else can go wrong?"

D'Argo grunted. "We try never to ask that kind of a question when facing trouble. It tends to invite the opportunity for more trouble to appear."

Now it was Cooley's turn to grunt, but he didn't say any more. The increasing sounds coming from town said it all.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

For John, it had felt like an eternity had passed since their arrival at the commerce planet, but in reality it had only been a couple of hours. Everything crept by so slowly, ever since Gilina's death. He closed his eyes, thinking of the Peacekeeper technician who had died because of him. What a waste of an intelligent, caring, and beautiful woman. He sighed, squeezing his eyes more tightly shut, as if that alone would keep his guilt and rage from engulfing him completely.

It would be easier to think of his pain as simple grief for Gilina's death, but he knew it was more than that, much more. Scorpius and his damned Aurora chair had almost done him in. It probably would have if it hadn't been for . . . there, the grief was back like a sledgehammer inside his heart. He leaned forward, gasping for air, but all he could see was Gilina's lips as they parted with her last breath.

_Don't think about it_, he told himself as he straightened in his chair. _Don't think about her_.

He grunted in disgust. Easy to say, impossible to do. Even if he didn't think about Gilina, the flashbacks he was having from the chair were enough to incapacitate him. The Aurora chair had effectively broken through his mental barriers without mercy and essentially raped his mind. The physical demand associated with such an experience was extensive. His body still ached in its aftermath, but his spirit ached more.

He heard a noise and looked up to see Chiana smiling at him. Where had she come from? More and more, Chi reminded him of a cat in the way she moved, all stealth and sureness tied up in the form of one petite, but very sexy woman.

He took a quick breath and blinked. She said something to him that he didn't listen to, but her body language revealed the nature of her unheard words. Chi appeared to be flirting with him in a relaxed easygoing style, but John knew better.

She was hovering over him just as she'd done ever since they'd returned to Moya, hovering with frustration and he knew why – he wasn't responding to her attempts to help him. Seriously, for someone who had survived by her wits, Chiana could be pretty dense sometimes. John didn't want to hurt her feelings, but if she didn't back off soon, he was going to say something he'd regret.

When she reached for the razlak, he didn't stop her. The truth was he could use a drink, he just hadn't taken the time to open the bottle yet. Chiana began talking again, this time about the wayfarers. He sighed. Why hadn't he just told the others to go to hell when they were readying to go planetside?

Then he sighed again. What a stupid question, because he knew exactly why he'd gone with them – he didn't wanted to be left alone on the great Leviathan. Well, he wouldn't have been entirely alone. Pilot would have been there with him, but Pilot wouldn't have been in his face like the others. With them gone from the ship, he'd have been truly alone with himself and that thought made him shudder. A town packed with people was much preferable over his memories and those damned flashbacks.

"Pilot said there were a lot of people here, but I didn't think he meant this many. What was it again that they are doing?"

Chiana waited for him to answer her question.

"A sacred pilgrimage," he said quietly, surprising himself that he knew the answer so readily. He hadn't really been listening to her.

His reply didn't seem to satisfy her. She craned her neck in that odd manner of movement she had as she went silent, and then she went off on a tangent that only Chiana could accomplish. "But Pilot said a lot of the wayfarers die every year on this sacred pilgr-pilgr...however the hezmana you say it. I'll never understand religions that make you think you have to die for a holy cause. In my book, God would never want you to suffer like that, but then again, I've never really had that many conversations with God."

John took a deep breath. Maybe Chiana was right, maybe God didn't mean for his people suffer and sacrifice. Maybe it was only men like Scorpius who carried out such horrors in the name of more divine pursuits. John flinched at the thought of Scorpius, and he could almost hear the Peacekeeper's voice whisper into his ear. _"I'm not done with you yet, Crichton. You may have a short respite, but rest assured, you will eventually tell me everything you know about worm holes."_

John squeezed his eyes shut at the thought of Scorpius and he clamped down on his emotions until the Peacekeeper fled his thoughts. When he opened his eyes again, Chiana looked like she was about to call Zhaan over to help. John's thumbnail toyed with a loose edge of the label on the bottle of razlak as he picked it up. "Pip, stop worrying about me, I'm fine. Besides, you don't make a very good Mother Theresa."

He grunted as he rolled his eyes. "Hell, Mother Theresa probably just turned over in her grave when I said that. You're not known for modesty or restraint or any of the other things nuns for known for. You're an amazing woman, Chi, but you just don't fit the bill."

The next thing he knew a series of explosions sounded from out on the street and pandemonium broke out all around him. He moved without thinking, rising to his feet, drawing his weapon, as did Chiana. He glanced over to where Zhaan had been and was relieved to see her looking for them, then his gaze went to the front windows and doors, and the chaos outside.

The explosions started coming faster and were getting closer, though they didn't seem to carry much of a blast – they were more noise than power. The windows rattled some, but nothing fell from the walls or tabletops. Looking back at the people still inside, John could see the panic among the wayfarers was quickly escalating. He waved at Zhaan to wait for them. Within a few moments, they were together, though they had to shout to be heard over the din of the emptying saloon.

"We need to find Aeryn and D'Argo," Zhaan shouted.

John nodded and pointed. "The back door."

They forced their way out the rear entrance, along with the departing wayfarers. Once there, they didn't see any more clues as to what was behind the blasts, except the wayfarers were fleeing the area as fast as they could, and there was a sudden wind that had came up while they'd been inside, blowing dust in its wake.

Numerous transport vehicles filled with people and possessions started up and moved down the alleyways with reckless speed. Some of the vehicles had animal transports attached to the rear and they swayed ominously as they left. John stopped in a secluded alcove in the alley and spoke into his comms. "Aeryn, D'Argo, where are you?"

Chiana and Zhaan waited beside him. There was no response at first and then when the reply came, it was garbled. "...can't hear...too much..."

"Crap," John cursed as he turned his face away from the wind.

Zhaan spoke into her comms, "D'Argo, Aeryn, please respond."

The next message was even more distorted than before. Chiana tried hers. "Pilot, can you read us?"

All they got was static from Moya, not even indiscernible words.

"It's the wind," John said simply. "It's kicking up too much silitron dust in the atmosphere. The comms will be useless."

He felt antsy. They had more pressing problems than inoperative comms. The blasts were coming closer and the cold wind was getting stronger. They holstered their weapons and stepped out of the alleyway and looked into the streets of Nelleb in confusion.

There were some injured coming down the unpaved street now, but those injured were only among the wayfarers. Some were on foot, others on transports, all chased by the rising winds. A few of the injuries looked fairly serious, but the travelers didn't linger. They just gathered up their wounded kinsmen and moved on. Some of the animal transports must have broken free, because there were herd animals galloping through the streets now.

A female wayfarer with a baby clutched to her chest had a little girl running beside her as they moved. The girl held onto a fistful of her mother's skirt. Another blast a few streets over startled the girl and she went face first into the dirt. Her mother had been moving fast and it was a moment before she realized the girl wasn't at her side any longer.

Three heavy camel-like creatures came stampeding down the street, probably spooked by the high winds and loud noises, and were headed directly for the girl. The risk she would be trampled was very real. In the next split second, John looked back at the creatures and moved. He scooped up the child as he ran across the street, and then dove, rolling with her toward the safety of a parked transport, but their momentum stopped just short of the vehicle. Without enough time to get under it, John crouched against the transport, shielding the girl with his body, but the animals were too close and going too fast.

One of the beast's hooves clipped John on the shoulder as it galloped by. John grunted, the pain stealing his breath as he held the girl tightly in his arms. Once the thundering creatures passed, John let out a long breath and tried to move his left arm, but the shoulder was still too stunned by the impact and the limb refused to move.

The girl began to squirm and cry. John loosened his hold on her, lightly brushing his lips across the top of her head. "Shush, it's okay, you're safe now."

He brushed the dirt from her face with his good hand. The terrified mother appeared at John's side and grabbed the girl's arm, yanking her away from John. "You may have saved my daughter, but Danifa was the one watching over her. Remember that! Danifa can forgive you all for this devilry, but I won't!"

Then she ran down the street in tears, dragging the crying child behind her. John held his shoulder and rocked for a moment before he tried to stand. He'd had worse injuries before, remembering both times he dislocated his shoulder, yet that didn't stop this one from hurting like hell. His knees went out from under him, and he would have hit the dirt if it hadn't been for Zhaan catching him.

She held tightly to him as she asked, "How are you? What damage was done?"

John shook his head. "I don't think it did much, except it hurts like the dickens and I can't move my arm."

With Zhaan's help, he stood, but his hand never left his aching shoulder. Chiana met his gaze with a worried look, but then Zhaan nodded in a way that said he was okay. Chiana relaxed a bit. To tell the truth, the shoulder didn't feel okay; in fact, it hurt like crazy, but John knew that would pass quickly enough.

Besides, there were other distractions going on around him. The city's inhabitants were still heckling the fleeing wayfarers as they left. "Leave and don't come back, you freaks!" shouted an angry man nearby.

Chiana looked in the man's direction and stepped closer. He wore the grimy overalls of the miner's class. Along with his cap, it all blended together to give the appearance that the heavyweight man had no neck. Once again, Chiana's curiosity got the better of her and she asked, "What did they do?"

The man grunted. "They came here!" He laughed at his comment and looked to Chiana as if she should join in. He leaned closer. "These freaks clog up our town every year and we're tired of it. It's time to take back what's ours."

Chiana's shoulders straightened as if she was offended and about to say something ugly just as John and Zhaan joined them. Zhaan stepped in front of Chiana and asked, "Is there another route for them to go?"

"No, but that's their problem, not mine."

Someone gathered in the group of townspeople whooped and said, "In a few hours, the next group of wayfarers comes through, and we can do it again! If the Katarrahs are still blowing, the idiots will get so turned around, they won't know if they are coming or going!"

"Damned straight!" the man with no neck said as he glared at Zhaan, and then at John, as if remembering John had just saved one of the 'freaks'. He took a step forward, his hatred now focused on John. "You shouldn't have saved that whelp. She'll only breed more of them one day. I swear it gets worse every year."

"Watch your mouth, mister, we aren't one of your damned cheerleaders," John muttered under his breath.

The man must have not heard him, because he started to turn away, but then pivoted toward the departing wayfarers. "I hope the Unseen gets the whole lot of you! Good riddens!"

Chiana came from behind Zhaan, one hand pointing at him ominously while the other rested on her pulse pistol. "Why you narrowminded fat bast-"

John took a couple of steps away, closing his eyes as he tried to get his emotions under control. The pain from his shoulder only made the task that much more difficult. The diplomat in Zhaan interceded, putting a firm hand on Chiana's shoulder and she smiled without warmth. "Obviously, we differ in opinion. We shall be on our way."

Chiana wasn't ready to let the guy get off so easily. She pushed away Zhaan's hand and moved closer to the man. "And here I was thinking this might be a swell place to live, but not with neighbors like you."

The man sniffed the air and glanced to some other men standing near the main crowd of locals. He nodded and the others started in their direction. "We have a way of taking care of freak-lovers around here, especially when they are off-worlders who have no business meddling in the affairs of others!"

The miner picked up a piece of wood from the ground and quickly approached Chiana with a dangerous air. He never had a chance to do anything as John roared with rage, "Like hell you are!"

There was no time to draw his weapon, so John tackled the man instead. They rolled on the dirty street. When they came to a stop, John had his pulse pistol pulled and its muzzle pressed squarely between the man's eyes. Breathing hard, John had to struggle to control himself and not pull the trigger of his weapon as his impulses urged. It would be so easy, so damned easy, to pull that trigger.

John could barely move his left arm, but he used it to lean against the man's throat as he straddled the heavyset miner, and spoke in a low, dangerous tone. "Just shut up for a minute, Mr. No Neck...Redneck...whatever the hell they call you here. I've had just about enough of this dren! If you weren't behind those blasts, you didn't try to stop them, either. In my book that makes you just as guilty. These people did nothing to you, despite your weak arguments otherwise."

"You know nothing about it, Mister. I'm going to get rid of those freaks once and for-"

John used the butt of his pulse pistol to clip Mr. No Neck across his temple. "I said shut up," he said through tightly clenched teeth.

Glancing around, he saw that Zhaan and Chiana had taken up flanking positions behind him. The crowd that had been cheering on the mistreatment of the wayfarers now turned their attention to them, but they weren't cheering any longer. In fact, the tension in the air had mushroomed and threatened to become even uglier.

Chiana had her weapon drawn and she gestured to a familiar trio of men on the boardwalk beside them. They were the same ones No Neck had just exchanged gazes with. "Keep your hands where I can see them and everything will be okay. My friend is just doing some...public service education. It won't take long."

The adrenaline surge that had driven John to attack was waning and John didn't want to let No Neck see his hands shake, so he sat back, resting on his knees for a second. "I hear about you stirring things up again, Archie Bunker, and we'll have to have us another talk."

"You're a dead man," No Neck whispered as he wiped at the blood on his temple.

John grunted. "Listen, I've been threatened by much scarier men than you. You just plain irritate me." He moved off of No Neck and got to his feet with Zhaan's help. "Go on, go play with your bigoted buddies and get out of my sight. Just remember it was a freak-lover who turned the other cheek this time. It won't happen again. I hear about you hurting another wayfarer, and you'll be sorry we ever crossed paths."

No Neck held his throat as he got to his feet. He was joined by his friends and they escorted him to the boardwalk. He pivoted, facing John. The man's voice was hoarse with emotion as he said, "You don't realize the trouble you've just brought upon yourself, Mister. You have no idea."

They went around the corner, No Neck still cursing John as they left. The blasts in the background subsided as the last wayfarers in the area made themselves scarce. John turned toward the lingering crowd of local residents as they left the area, warily watching their departure.

"What a jerk," John said and swayed a bit. He straightened, but Zhaan had a hand on his arm and back.

"Crichton, are you sure you're okay?" she asked quietly.

"I'm fine," he said, pulling away from her in irritation. He frowned at his behavior. _What the hell was making him so angry?_

"Looks like the place is full of them," Chiana muttered, holstering her weapon, but before she did, she had looked at it in confusion, as if she didn't remember pulling it. "Something about this place makes it real easy to get mad. I was so close to mowing down the whole bunch. Something's wrong here."

"Well, they've got one hell of a welcome wagon, that's for sure," John grumbled in disgust, as he slapped at the dust on his clothes and hair, but the movement only made his shoulder ache more. His roll on the ground with No Neck had done nothing to help his pain, but that became unimportant the moment he heard a new shout.

"Spread out! The Peacekeepers are here!"

John's heart stopped beating as a rush of panic raced through him. _Not now_, he pleaded inside,_ It's too damned soon to face Peacekeepers again!_

After a second, he was able to breathe again. He glanced at Chiana and Zhaan and clutched his shoulder to brace it as they began to run against the wind. The wind was bitter and hard, just like the news of the Peacekeepers, darkening the afternoon sky, much like a death shroud.

Apparently, the city's residents felt the same way, because no one was running in the direction of the shouted warning.

**oOoOoOoOo**


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

Between the wind and the pandemonium on the streets of Nelleb, Aeryn wasn't sure which way to go, so she just followed Cooley as he headed into the heart of town. They rounded a corner and saw a group of men in miner's gear coming toward them.

One of the men said, "Don't worry, Jonz and Barctum are following those off-worlders. We'll make them-" The man stopped abruptly when he saw the sheriff and his deputies. Aeryn immediately went on alert because of the murderous gleam in the stranger's eyes.

"Riele, what happened to you?" Cooley asked carefully.

The man called Riele glared at the sheriff and spit on the ground as he pulled away from his friends to stand on his own. He adjusted his cap quickly, but nothing hid the trickle of blood running down the side of his face. "Nothing that you need to know about."

Cooley's voice took on an ominous tone. "If it involves the wayfarers, it involves me. I told you last time, I'd have you thrown in jail if it happened again. Apparently, you didn't believe me, but you will now."

He gestured to two of his deputies who pointed their guns in Riele's direction. The wind whipped around them in angry waves, their invisible tide nearly strong enough to carry all of them away.

"Riele, you can come without incident and have a nice sleep over at the jail, or you can get the crap beaten out of you for resisting arrest and spend a month there. It's up to you," Cooley said, his voice rising to be heard of the wind.

The murderous look in Riele's eyes grew and he looked like he wanted to take on the sheriff's entire entourage, including Aeryn and D'Argo, but then he backed off. "I'll go...just because I want to watch you deal with my boss when he finds out you've jailed his foreman during peak production. Now, that sight might just be worth the price of sitting in your jail."

Riele glanced over to the men that had been with him. "Let Milt know what happened and that I won't be coming into work tonight." He paused, and smiled coldly as he added, "And don't forget to take care of that business we were talking about before the opportunity passes."

His men smiled in response, the kind of smile that made Aeryn's trigger finger itchy. They nodded at Riele, then they turned and went back in the direction they'd just come from, making Cooley and his people seem nervous. Something was up. Something not good. Aeryn looked at the two groups of men and tightened her grip on her pulse rifle.

Apparently, Cooley felt the same way, because he said, "Riele, don't make this any worse than it already is."

Riele just grinned from ear to ear and said, "I don't know what you are talking about."

Scratching his ear, Cooley turned to another of his deputies. "Aton, follow those men just to make sure they stay out of troub-"

Cooley's order was cut short when there was a shout from down the street. "Spread out! The Peacekeepers are here!"

Cooley looked at Riele, his men, and then to Aeryn and D'Argo, changing his previous orders. "Aton will take you to a place where you'll be out of the way. I'll send word when you can move about again."

Aton stepped forward and pointed. "This way." Then he began running.

D'Argo followed him, but Aeryn hesitated for a moment. Cooley grabbed Riele by his overalls and pulled him forward. "Come on, Riele, let's see if the Peacekeepers will be as understanding about your misguided beliefs as I have been."

He pushed him forward, leaving Aeryn standing there alone. There was another shout, and then the Peacekeeper force's vehicle began turning onto their street.

"Aeryn!" D'Argo called to her. "Now!"

Moving in D'Argo's direction, Aeryn had the distinct feeling some greater danger had been given life while they were talking. The wind was to her back, pushing her along, as if silently nudging her to follow D'Argo, whether she was ready to or not. It seemed to be a animated, wicked thing, and she knew it was stirring up more than dust. She could feel its effects working inside her own heart.

Wherever they were, she could only hope that Zhaan, Chiana, and Crichton had a secure place to ride out the Peacekeeper's visit.

**oOoOoOoOo**

John looked over his shoulder again. He couldn't shake the feeling they were being followed as they headed down a deserted alley.

"Hurry, John," Zhaan said, and he knew she was feeling the same type of apprehension that he was.

"I'm right behind you," he said, glancing back one more time.

It probably wasn't the wisest decision, but they had decided to head back to the transport pod, despite the Katarrah winds that made travel difficult. Anywhere else was safer than in a town occupied with Peacekeepers.

John turned his head to look back again, but he could never get a glimpse of anyone trailing behind. _It's gotta be this damned wind that's got me spooked_, he told himself finally.

Chiana stopped to catch her breath, bending over as she held on to a fence post, but all she did was cough. John could sympathize, the dust storm was wreaking havoc with his eyes and respiratory tract. Zhaan was faring somewhat better, but not much.

"Just a microt, Crichton," Chiana said in between gulps of air.

"We need to get out of this wind," Zhaan said, looking around as she stood with a hand to Chiana's back, but all the buildings around them were dark or boarded up. "The people inside the consortium said special equipment was needed to travel outside when the Katarrahs set in. We have nothing like that. We need to be inside."

"Yeah, I think you're right," John said, leaning against one of the buildings as he forced himself to not cradle his shoulder like he wanted to.

He shivered from the cold, and then grunted from the way his shoulder reacted to the movement. _Temperature must have dropped twenty degrees since we've been outside_.

Making a deliberate act of releasing his hold of his injured arm, he walked back to where Zhaan was standing in the street, and spoke loudly in order to be heard over the howling wind, "Maybe we can break into one of the buildings for shelter."

"What about heading back to the consortium?" Zhaan suggested.

John shook his head. "Not enough time. Just look how bad it's gotten since we left. We'd never make it back in time."

Zhaan nodded. John started toward a nearby bakery, figuring it wouldn't have many high security features when he heard an angry shout from across the street. When he turned, he saw some men standing in the shadows, as if they'd followed them from the incident in the street, and his hand automatically went to his pulse pistol.

"Eat this, freak lovers!"

"Ah, crap," he whispered as he watched something shoot in the air toward them, probably some type of hand grenade. Whatever it was, John knew it couldn't be good. He turned to the women with him, waving them away. "Hit the deck!"

He went to dive behind some steps, but didn't move fast enough. The resulting explosion caught him in midair and threw him against the wall of the bakery and he slid to the ground, unconscious.

With a horn blasting and flashing lights, a small transport pulled up beside them from a side street. Inside was a woman with a boy.

"Hurry, get inside!" the woman said, watching the direction the explosion had come from. "Jairme, help them."

The boy called Jairme got out as Zhaan looked to Chiana who was just pulling herself up. Chiana was bleeding from one ear and she looked disoriented, but at least she was moving, unlike Crichton. Zhaan went to stand and gasped. When she followed the pain, she saw her leg bleeding. Luckily, it didn't look too serious and Zhaan was more worried about Crichton, so she forced herself forward.

Once she was at John's side, she took a deep breath to settle her nerves. Crichton was unconscious and bleeding from several cuts and abrasions. He didn't look good at all, but she had no time to examine him. The next thing she knew the boy was at her side, urging her along. "Come on, we don't have much time. I'll get one arm and you get the other."

Jairme reached for John's left arm and stopped, his mouth dropping open. He glanced up at Zhaan. "Look at his arm...that weird angle, it's got to be busted."

She moved without thinking, picking up a small piece of wood in the road as she took off her belt. A few quick wraps and at least John's arm was immobilized for the moment. The boy looked up at her. "I'll try to be careful with him, but who know what is busted..."

Zhaan was forced to agree, though the thought of other injuries didn't help her uneasiness. She nodded. "Just be as gentle as possible."

Another blast went off, rocking the boy's mother's hovercraft. "You tell those guys to be gentle first." He sighed and reached for John again. "Let's move."

There was more shouts that drew Zhaan's attention. When she looked up, the street seemed to be filling with people, despite the rising winds. "Come on! We've got to go now!" the woman shouted from the pilot's seat.

Chiana rushed over. Between the three of them, they got John into the back seat of the hovercraft, and then Jairme moved up front while Chiana and Zhaan joined John in the back. A second later, the woman gunned the power and took off just as another explosive went off where they'd been parked.

Zhaan tried to tend to Crichton, but the darkness inside the vehicle and its lurching movements made it impossible to do more than check John's pulse and respiration. His heart rate was racing and his respiration was fast and shallow. To make matters worse, his skin was cold and sweaty, which wasn't a good sign. He was still unconscious and none of their jostling had caused any sign of reaction, which with his broken arm, should have caused considerable pain.

"How is he, Zhaan?" Chiana asked, her speech still sluggish and Zhaan suspected the young woman had sustained a concussion.

"I don't know. He's got a broken arm. Other than that, and the fact that I've detected his pulse and respiration, I don't know much else."

Chiana's hand reached out in the limited illumination from the front control panel and found Zhaan's as it rested on John's forehead. She squeezed, and put her head on Zhaan's shoulder. Zhaan leaned into Chiana's embrace and whispered, "It's okay, child, we'll be all right."

Chiana raised her head to look at Zhaan. "What about you? Were you hurt?"

"No, not badly. What about you?"

Chiana smirked. "My ears are still ringing, but I think I'm okay."

Zhaan knew better but didn't press her on the matter. The condition of John's arm concerned her. She felt along John's broken limb. It was a bad break and it was bleeding, so either there was a cut or shrapnel from the explosion or it was a compound fracture.

With John's leather jacket, it was hard to tell. Unable to do anything more, she closed her eyes and began to pray when the woman at the front of the craft spoke, "We will catch up to our caravan in about an arn, God willing. Once there, we have people trained in the healing arts who can look at your friend."

"Ma," Jairme said, "Why did they attack him?"

The woman caught Zhaan's gaze in one of her mirrors. "Because he tried to help one of our kind, and that is why we couldn't ignore him when we saw his group was in trouble."

"We are grateful for your help," Zhaan said quietly.

"It is only because we were delayed in getting our supplies that we were even there. When everything went crazy after the blasts began, I didn't think we'd get the supplies we needed to make it to Aserraki, which is four days out, but Danifa must have interceded for all of us, because we were the last customer before they shut down, and that put us here at the right time."

She looked again at Zhaan. "I am afraid there will be no way to turn back. You will have to go to Aserraki with us. We can drop you off on our return trip, unless you can arrange for transportation on your own."

Chiana nodded. "We have people who can pick us up once the windstorm dies down. Until then, we can't contact them."

Zhaan rubbed her hands together, disturbed by the blood on them. She needed to know how much blood John was losing. "Chiana, reach into my bag. I have a small flashlight there."

Chiana did as requested, but nearly dropped it when the meager light showed significant blood loss. "Wh-what do we do?"

Zhaan forced her voice to sound as steady as she could as she took off her wrap to make a tourniquet. "We pray. Help me to remove his jacket."

From the front seat, she heard two prayers begin. As she worked, she added her own. From the look of things, John was going to need every one of them.

**oOoOoOoOo**

**Chapter 4**


End file.
